


Vargr

by HysteriaLevi



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28712877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HysteriaLevi/pseuds/HysteriaLevi
Summary: Sigurd finds Eivor after a vicious wolf attack and brings him to safety.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	Vargr

**Author's Note:**

> This plot was suggested to me by someone on tumblr. Hope you guys enjoy! (Thank you to molstkiwi for the idea!)

**SOMEWHERE IN NORWAY**

**NIGHTTIME**

He could hear them. 

He could still hear their screams.

Even though the gods had carried him far away from the mayhem wrought by Kjtove’s hand, Sigurd could still hear the hurricane of distant shrieks that clung onto the air, and traveled endlessly into the night’s abyss.

There was a line of fire sitting just above the horizon, and even though his vision had been impaired by a disorienting blur, Sigurd could see the longhouse crumbling into ash as the flames of Múspellsheimr itself ravaged the very bones of its structure.

As for Eivor -- the boy was nowhere to be seen.

He was thrown off their horse when Kjtove’s men shot it down, and much to the boy’s dismay, Sigurd had landed on a crown of rocks just above the frozen lake that he himself had been trapped on.

There was no one else to rescue them at the moment, and it didn’t seem like anyone was coming anytime soon.

“...E-Eivor...?” Sigurd murmured weakly, writhing in the snow. “...Are you there...?”

He planted a firm hand against the rock, trying to push himself up. His head was still throbbing from the bash he endured earlier, and despite his attempts to ignore it, an intense pain now battered his skull, racking his brain like the strike of a club.

“...Eivor...” Sigurd repeated, his voice scraping against his throat. “...Where... where are you...?”

Rolling onto his back, the boy turned around to face the vast blanket of darkness hovering above him as a string of turquoise lights rippled through the void, painting the land below in a shimmering haze.

He could see a lone raven circling in the air like a messenger sent from the Allfather himself, and in the midst of all the different sounds that clouded his ears, Sigurd heard the creature let out a single caw, crying out to him as if it were beckoning the boy to follow.

He didn’t know what was going on, or if Eivor was even still alive, but for some reason, Sigurd felt a newfound panic gripping his chest, causing his body to stir once more.

“...Eivor...!” He said as loudly as he could, “...say something...!”

Contrary to what he expected, someone actually responded this time.

“Sigurd...!” A familiar voice cried out, followed by the distant growling of a wolf. “Help me!”

A sharp scream suddenly pierced through the shadows, shattering the stillness of the night.

Sigurd jerked his head up in alarm, realizing what was going on.

“Eivor!” He exclaimed, forcing himself up from the rock. “Hold on!”

Practically throwing himself over the edge, Sigurd instantly climbed off the small cliff he had landed on and hurriedly made his way down to the bed of ice, desperately trying to reach his younger brother.

The boy had gone silent ever since he let out that scream, and considering how there was now a pool of blood spreading out from underneath him, Sigurd assumed he had already been mauled -- if not killed.

“Stay back!” He shouted as he descended onto the ice, trying to lure the wolf’s attention away from Eivor. “Leave him alone!”

Flicking his eyes across lake, Sigurd spotted an axe lying on the ground and immediately darted for it, doing his best not to strain the ice beneath his feet.

He wrapped his hand around the hilt and hauled the weighty weapon up from the ground, slamming it in the wolf’s direction as the blade went slicing through its fur.

“Get away from him!” Sigurd yelled, raising his arm as he prepared to deliver another blow.

Just before he could cut the wolf down however, a storm of ravens suddenly soared through the air and targeted the beast with a relentless hostility, forcing the wild creature to retreat into the woods. 

He didn’t know where on earth these ravens had come from, or why they decided to help, but they seemed to share his protective nature and scared the wolf away from the fallen child, giving Sigurd the chance he needed to save him.

“It’s okay, Eivor...” he whispered softly, sliding the axe into his belt. “Just hold on. I’m going to get you somewhere safe. You’re going to be alright. Just please, hold on...!”

Slipping his arms underneath the boy, Sigurd lifted Eivor into his embrace and quickly rushed him away from the brutal scene, not wanting to run into any more of Kjotve’s men. 

He had no idea where his father was, or if he had survived the raid, but just based on the muffled shouts he heard echoing in the distance, Sigurd knew Kjtove’s clan had begun to spread out into the wilds -- possibly to search for survivors -- and were rapidly nearing his location.

“Shit...!” He cursed under his breath, bringing Eivor into the woods. 

Weaving his way through the cluster of trees, Sigurd trudged through the thick snow as his boots sunk into its depths and slowed with its persistent clutch, wearing him out more and more with every move.

The orange glow of nearby torches could be seen painting the white bark of the woods around him, and in the beams of its light, Sigurd saw the menacing shadows of Kjtove’s men slithering along the uneven surface of the trees, dancing like ripples in a lake.

At first, they didn’t appear to notice the boy, but after an unfortunate step on a fallen twig, they suddenly heard an abrupt _snap,_ causing them to jolt their heads in his direction.

“Over there!” One of them alerted, pointing into the forest. “There’s someone in the woods!”

Picking up his pace, Sigurd instantly broke into a sprint upon hearing the man’s cries and charged through the seemingly endless labyrinth of trees, swiveling around the plethora of arrows that came flying towards him.

The light of their torches was growing brighter with each passing second, and once Sigurd reached the edge of the forest’s hold, he found himself running out into the open, leaving him completely vulnerable to their attacks.

“Get the horses, you fools!” A man ordered. “Don’t let him escape!”

Tightening his grip on Eivor, Sigurd mustered as much strength as his body would allow him and bolted across the frozen fields, fleeing for his life at a pace that he didn’t know he was capable of.

Meanwhile, Kjtove’s men fervently galloped towards the boy from behind and trampled their way through the barren meadows, causing the earth to tremble underneath the strength of their mounts.

A hurricane of snow billowed in the raiders’ wake, and as they chased Sigurd into the uncharted corners of Norway’s wilderness, a flock of ravens began gathering above them, gliding along with the wispy movement of the Northern Lights.

“Don’t give up now!” They shouted. “We’ve almost got him!”

Whipping their reigns with a firm tug, Kjotve’s men urged their horses to go faster as puffs of mist rose from the animals’ flared nostrils, spreading into the ice-cold wind that was currently searing into their flesh.

In the meantime, Sigurd continued with his journey and frantically searched the area for any means of escape, only to spot a bridge sitting quietly in the distance. It spanned across a wide river that divided two large rock formations, and had nothing more than a few strings of rope to hold it in place.

It was narrow, rickety, and weathered with age. If Sigurd could get across, it’d be the perfect opportunity for him to trap Kjotve’s men on the other side.

He decided to go for it.

Ignoring the intense ache that now gripped onto his legs, Sigurd clenched his jaw in pain and rushed towards the bridge, practically levitating off the ground with how fast his feet were moving. Kjotve’s men were no more than a few meters behind him now, and if he didn’t get to the bridge in time, they’d soon cut him down like they did with the rest of Eivor’s clan.

Racing towards the edge of the cliff, Sigurd didn’t even spare a second thought before sprinting across the bridge’s loosened planks of wood, causing the structure to wobble under his weight. 

By now, some of Kjotve’s men had dismounted their horses due to the small width of the bridge’s path, but based on the fact that they were unsheathing their weapons instead of chasing after him, Sigurd realized that they were planning to cut _him_ down first.

“...No, no, no, no...!” He muttered to himself, making haste for the opposite side.

But it was too late.

Just as Sigurd began to step off the bridge, he suddenly felt the wood beneath his feet collapsing into the emptiness below, urging him to throw Eivor onto the solid ground ahead of him.

Meanwhile, Sigurd’s heart froze in fear as he plummeted towards the raging river, causing him to let out a panicked shout. There was a multitude of jagged rocks sitting in the water, and as he watched Eivor’s unconscious body vanish into the distance, he could’ve sworn he saw the gates of Valhalla themselves, waiting to welcome him.

Right before he could fall to his demise however, Sigurd suddenly felt something wrapping itself around his arm, holding him in place. He was suspended in the air like a fish on a hook, and upon gazing upwards into the illuminated sky, Sigurd saw the stark silhouette of a man holding onto his wrist.

A breathy chuckle escaped his savior’s lips, leading the boy to instantly recognize his voice.

“I got you, you crazy boy...!” Styrbjorn called out. “Come here.”

Letting out a strained grunt, the battle-worn king steadily pulled his son up from death’s embrace and hauled him onto the ground next to Eivor, sighing in relief once he was safe.

It looked like the rest of Styrbjorn’s clan had already regrouped with their leader, and judging by the small crowds of people scattered around the region, Sigurd assumed that most of them had survived.

“Father...!” The boy exclaimed, panting out of fatigue. “I... Kjtove’s men... they... they almost...”

Styrbjorn placed a comforting hand on Sigurd’s shoulder, looking him in the eye. “ _Breathe,_ boy. You’re safe now. You have nothing to fear.”

His son gestured to Eivor. “But... Eivor...”

Following Sigurd’s gaze, Styrbjorn’s eyes widened in concern when he finally noticed the wounds embedded into the child’s neck, leading him to cradle Eivor in his hold.

“Blood of Tyr...!” He whispered in shock. “What happened to him?”

Sigurd crawled next to his father. “A wolf attacked him after we fled the village. I tried to help him, but I... I was too late. It already bit his throat. He could die, father! We... we need to--”

Styrbjorn held up a reassuring hand, observing Eivor’s injuries. “--Worry not, my son. We will help him. He’s not beyond saving just yet.”

“...And his parents? What about them?”

The king’s expression sagged with grief. “...They’re both dead, Sigurd. Kjotve slaughtered them in cold blood just before you arrived. I’m afraid Eivor is the only one left.”

Sigurd stared at the man in disbelief. “...What? It’s just him? There’s no one else?”

Styrbjorn shook his head. “Not that we know of. But let us not dwell on that. There will be plenty of time for mourning later. Right now, we need to focus on getting Eivor to safety and mending these wounds.” The man stood up from the ground, carrying Eivor in his arms. “Thank you for saving him, Sigurd. You did well today.”

The boy remained seated on the ground, still worn out from the chase. “I haven’t saved him yet. Just, please... make sure he’ll be okay. He’s... he’s like a brother to me.”

Styrbjorn nodded in understanding. “I know, son. We’ll bring him to Svala. She will take good care of him. You have my word. Now, come along. We should get out of this treacherous place whilst we have the chance. Kjotve’s men still lurk in the shadows.”

He turned to the rest of his clan, raising his voice so they could hear him. “Everyone! It’s time to move out! Stick close, and keep your eyes sharp.”

Standing up from the snow, Sigurd mirrored his father’s actions and followed the trail laid out before them, gladly removing himself from the threat of Kjotve’s clan. Every fiber in his body wanted nothing more than to collapse into the comfort of a warm bed, but for the time being, he was just relieved that he had been able to get Eivor away from that wolf.

Part of him feared that the boy had died already when he first saw him. He was just... lying there. Like a discarded doll. Lifeless, defenseless, robbed of everyone he loved most in life. The gods had been cruel with Eivor’s fate today, and Sigurd was _not_ eager to tell him all that transpired once he awoke.

For now though, he simply kept his mind on the task at hand. If Eivor was going to survive, he’d need Sigurd to be at his best. And he did _not_ intend to let him down.

“Sigurd!” A man called out, drawing the boy out of his thoughts. 

“Gunnar,” Sigurd replied to the blacksmith. “You made it.”

“Indeed. One of Kjotve’s rats nearly planted his blade into my heart, but by the grace of the gods, I live to fight for another day. Though, I’m more concerned about you. How do you fare, little _drengr?_ You seem distressed.”

Sigurd brought his gaze back to Eivor, watching in worry as Styrbjorn carried his limp body away.

“I fear for Eivor’s life, Gunnar. He may not be dead yet, but what if he dies before we get him to Svala? He doesn’t have much time left.”

The blacksmith patted Sigurd’s back, attempting to calm the boy’s nerves.

“Do not underestimate Eivor, Sigurd. He _is_ young, yes, but he has the blood of warriors running through his veins. He is stronger than he looks. You know this.”

Sigurd didn’t share Gunnar’s confidence. “But he’s just a _child._ A boy. Braver men have fallen to the kiss of a wolf in the past. What makes you so certain that _he’ll_ survive?”

“Because the Nornir gave you the chance to save him,” the blacksmith answered. “You had half of Kjotve’s clan chasing you through these woods, and yet, against all odds, you made it out alive. Why else would the Nornir spare you like that, if not to save Eivor’s life? That boy has _always_ had the gods’ favor. They will not let him die without a fight, and neither will you.”

Sigurd took Gunnar’s words to heart. “Well, that’s one thing you’re right about.”

The blacksmith smiled warmly. “Do not fear, my prince. Eivor will pull through. You’ll see. It will take more than an oath-breaking leech like Kjotve to bring him down.”

Gunnar picked up his pace, walking ahead of the boy. “Come, now. We shouldn’t linger. Eivor’s life teeters on the brink of death, and whether or not he is pulled back from the edge depends on us. _Especially_ on you.”

Sigurd shrugged. “How much can _I_ do? I’m no healer.”

The other man chuckled. “You mean, aside from rescuing him from a wolf and escaping the clutches of Kjotve’s raiders? You may not be a healer like Svala is, Sigurd, but you have your own ways of saving people. And that’s why you’ll make a good king someday. I can tell.”

Gunnar beckoned the boy. “But enough about that. This night has been long, and we have many dead to send off to the corpse hall. Your father is going to be a busy man in the days to come, and he will need you at his side. ...As will Eivor.”


End file.
